Monthly Archives: June 2011

Quote of the day: Eddie Vedder

Got my haircut today and while flipping through the magazines in the waiting area, read what just might be the best quote ever in “Rolling Stone” magazine.

Eddie Vedder was being asked about his ecclectic musical tastes when he was growing up, and the interviewer asked whether or not Vedder hid his huge James Taylor fixation from his punk-rock friends  at the time.

Not missing a beat, Vedder replied: “Oh, I didn’t give a shit at all. Punk rock is saying what you want and not giving a fuck.” So. Damn. Awesome. Now, apply that same quote to parenting and I think you could start a serious movement, baby.

Judge this Stay-at-home-Dad at your own peril, haters…I might act like I care what you think, but, trust me, most days, I just don’t give a fuck. Punk rock parenting forever!

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The Disney Princesses win again

Grrr…I know it’s lame, especially considering the fact that just about everything in the town where we live (Burbank) is either named after or somehow affiliated with Walt Disney — hell, we live within walking distance of the Disney studios! — but we have been trying really hard NOT to let Greta get sucked into the Disney Princesses sinkhole.

It’s not that either Mrs. Yeti or myself have anything against the princesses themelves. On their own, in their own worlds and time periods in their movies, they are a very charming group of strong, empowered, forward-thinking young women. Um, except Ariel. I mean, she’s gorgeous, with all that flowing hair and that voice and everything, but, I’m sorry, she’s about as deep as a bathtub.

The real problem we have is with all that shameless Disney marketing. I mean, come on, these Princesses were not friends, they didn’t hang out and they sure as hell didn’t spend the holidays together singing Christmas songs. It’s all so…calculated and marketing-y, you know?

Anyway, despite our best efforts to the contrary, tonight, we finally lost the battle with the Disney Princesses. That’s right, Daddy took back the perfectly good pink bunny sleeping bag from Target and returned home with a painfully-pink sleeping bag emblazoned with the faces of Cinderella, Belle, and sweet, stupid Ariel.

And you know what, Greta loved her new sleeping bag so much that she’s sleeping in it (on her bed) right now. And since we are totally in favor of anything that gets that girl to sleep this week…tonight, and only tonight, I am feeling some serious love for those Disney Princesses. Thanks, gals…

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A perfect morning…

Face painting at the Americana, music, dancing children and a real-life fairy hunt…who could ask for anything more? This is one of those crazy-beautiful moments that makes it all worthwhile.

Eat your bluberries, sweetie. Daddy loves you…

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Happy 70th birthday, Krzysztof!

Well, guess who didn’t fall asleep on her own again tonight? Yep. I sat in there with her for two-plus hours, but, she didn’t actually fall asleep for real until I left her screaming and crying in her crib and headed to my office to blog. Oh, the joys of parenting…

In any case, now that I have a few minutes before sleep completely overtakes me I can blog a hearty happy birthday message to the late, great Polish filmmaker Krzysztof Kieslowski. He would have been 70 years-old today and not only did he make some of my favorite films of all time, but his unique visual style and beautifully-interwoven storytelling techniques have informed everything I’ve written or wanted to write since I first saw his film “The Double Life of Veronique” way back in the early 1990’s.

Simply put, the man was a genius who died way before his time…makes me wonder if he had kids that kept him up all night too? Ha! Either way, Kieslowski completed at least two other masterworks before his death in 1996, the groundbreaking “Three Colors Trilogy: Blue, White, Red” and his indelible, early-career masterpiece, the ten-hour TV miniseries,“The Decalouge”.

If you haven’t seen any of his work yet, today is a great day to start. Celebrate the mad genius tonight by watching one (or if you have time, all) of his films…you will not be disappointed. Seriously, there was no one like him.

Oh yeah, on their Facebook page today, the cool cats at the Criterion Collection posed an interesting question by basically asking which title fans preferred: “The Three Colors Trilogy” or “The Decaloque”? Makes you wonder if their cooking up a cool Criterion reissue or two, huh? I couldn’t chose, but if I had to, I’d probably vote for “Decalogue” just because it has the least cool of the versions already on DVD. But, wow, the thought of them both coming out again via Criterion is kind of badass too. I can just imagine the cool box art…wow!

Happy birthday, Krzysztof, we miss you…

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Isolated…

Had lunch with a fellow SAHD today, one of my favorite dudes from my monthly Meetup.com Group, and he told me that he was moving back to where he and his wife came from at the end of the month. Grrr…suckage! I mean, great for him and his wife and kid, but, shitty for me and Greta and the rest of the Meetup guys who really dug him.

Anyway, he was talking about how hard life as a SAHD was and how it was even harder in a new city where he didn’t know anyone and then he used a word that I think perfectly encapsulates life as a SAHD. He said that sometimes, he just felt really “isolated”. Holy shit, are you kidding me, dude? That’s how I feel like, five times a day! And I’ve lived in this city for almost twenty years and know plenty of people.

So, I ran home and looked up the exact meaning of the word and, my favorite definition was: “having minimal contact or little in common with others”. Yep, that’s the word for it alright. There are good days and even great days, but, when the bad days hit back hard, we are all isolated on baby island, dude. And, I’m sorry, but when that happens, not even the cutest, most loving kid on earth can take the place of good old adult human contact.

And that’s why those of us who do have shit in common (namely the day-to-day upbringing of our children) gotta stick together and not be moving home and shit. Urgh, anyway, best of luck on your new adventures, amigo…we’ll miss ya.

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Slightly less troubled sleep…

Hooray! The good news is that Greta fell asleep in her own bed tonight after only three very calm (on my part) “back-in-the-crib” with you interactions. The bad news is that that third time was a fucking killer, man! Yikes…

The minute I chucked her back in her crib, our little angel climbed out and screamed and shook and pounded on her closed bedroom door until it sounded like she might just rip it from it’s hinges — I’d apologize to my upstairs neighbors for the noise, but their kids were way worse than Greta at her age, so I figure it’s Karmic revenge — so, what did we do while all this mayhem unfolded in the next room? You guessed it, we totally ignored her.

It wasn’t easy — her tearful pleas to sleep in “Mommy/Daddy’s bed” were the most heartbreaking — but we stuck to our guns and sat together on the couch with the Tivo on pause as she screamed and cried for almost eight minutes. And then, something amazing happened…Greta stopped banging on the door, climbed back into bed and fell asleep on her own. Just like that.

So, we are either the worst parents on earth or the savviest. Either way, we’re all sleeping much, much better tonight…

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Troubled sleep…week two!

I dunno what sort of developmental phase she’s going through right now, but we just finished our second week of major sleep issues with Greta. Lately, it doesn’t matter what time she naps (early, late afternoon, no nap, we’ve tried them all), when the time comes to go to sleep, she WILL NOT SLEEP.

And I ain’t talking delicate, little, “Let me just lay here for a while Daddy, I’ll fall asleep eventually.” I’m talking, screaming, shreiking bloody-murder, Gandalf-esque “You shall not pass!” refusals to even try to sleep. It’s insane. And, as you can imagine, it has done wonders for the sleep patterns of the other two people who live in this house.

It got so bad tonight that my wife actually threatened to leave if it didn’t stop. No word on where she would go (for the record, she is not a great planner on little or no sleep) but she did promise to leave a note when and if she does leave us. And, if you think I’m kidding, you obviously haven’t dealt with a surly, sleep-deprived two-year-old…or her surly, sleep-deprived mother. Yikes…

Short of spiking her last sippy cup of the night with Jim Beam, anyone have any ideas to help out? I was kidding about the Jim Beam (we’re more of a tequila household these days), but, we will seriously try anything at this point…so, please, comment away!

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“Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue”

Yes, I am actually taking the time to review a Disney DVD sequel…and you wanna know why? Because this is the first shitty Disney sequel we’ve seen that is actually, you know, not shitty. Seriously, the “Toy Story” movies aside, most of them are downright unwatchable — yeah, I’m talking to you “Lilo & Stitch 2: Stitch has a Glitch”! — so, we picked up “Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue” at the library with much hesitation. In fact, if I had been able to pry the DVD from Greta’s sweaty little hands when we left, I might have just ditched it outright. But, wow, am I glad she held on tightly, because this movie kinda rocked.

Beautiful animation (Mrs. Stay-at-home-Yeti wanted to live in that gorgeous little fairy house!), stellar voice work (Michael Sheen? Kristen Chenoweth? Lucy Lui? Who knew?!) and a very sweet little story that made me tear up all four times that we watched it in three days. Yep, it’s that good!

Surprisingly, the extras on this one are pretty first-rate too, especially the deleted scenes. I don’t wanna give anything away by telling you what my favorite was, but, make sure and watch the scene with the Dad as a young boy…totally magical! Really, it is terribly sweet and gives the story whole other layers of meaning…

Also, in watching the extras realized I know the director, Bradley Raymond. Small world, huh? Great job, Brad! Greta and I loved your movie, even it did make me cry like a little girl…

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Word to the Wise #1: The first in an ongoing series…

Always resist the urge to vacuum up piles of warm, shredded cheese from the carpeting. Trust me on this one, amigos, this is one job you wanna do by hand.

And let me tell ya, it takes for-fucking-ever…

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Why a Yeti?

Many people have asked me over the years…what is your fascination with Yetis? And the simple answer is that I have been obsessed with Bigfoot and Yeti stuff since I was a kid.

Growing up in the mountainous southernmost regions of Bigfoot country, the odds were if you spent the night in the woods, you were either gonna see a Bigfoot or an alien. Unfortunately, I never saw either…but my love for impossibly-tall, hairy bipeds has grown by leaps and bounds ever since then.

So much so that I actually wrote a script about a Yeti a couple of years back. It never went anywhere, but, let me tell ya, doing research for that project totally sealed the deal for me. I cannot think of a cooler mythical (?) creature than an angry, furry, white, man monkey! So damn awesome!

And on top of all that, Yeti was one of Greta’s first words…nuff said. Yeti’s rock, yo!

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